You like to pretend that I never cross your mind,
and I like to act like I don't even know your name.
Some new crazy kind of love language.
We're strangers only in the plain sight,
But some wild not so little freaks underneath.
For it is sweetest when they know not some of these things.
So before our wisdom becomes the death of this team,
Make it certain that you do mean everything under this black lights.
From the touch that mutes my sound, to the connection in our minds.
From the meeting of our lips to our tounges and teeth.
Even your moan should have some meaning to it.
For I'm not ready to act pretend in the streets and keep it going in the sheets.
Let's have some respect for the dreams that keep sanctioning our meets.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem